


Life and Death

by ButternutSquash112



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButternutSquash112/pseuds/ButternutSquash112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is an assassin who's been hired to kill Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    Grantaire was a killer, plain and simple. He added no embellishments to his profession and he sought no reward or praise. He was a hired gun, a ruthless mercenary. Give him a target and by the next day, that target would be dead. Grantaire wasn’t proud of what he did, but he wasn’t exactly ashamed either. That rush of adrenalin he would feel as he stabbed his victim or felt their bones snapping under his fingers was enough to overcome any shortcomings he had about his work. It didn’t sadden him either that he could kill with such little remorse. He knows that life was just one stage in an entire cycle, and that death was another. Where and when that death came didn’t matter, seeing as it was completely inevitable.  Grantaire was alone in the world. What other status could a man like him have? He had no friends, and he had only one acquaintance: the man who handed out his targets. Once every two days they met in some alleyway or darkened corner of a bar, staying only for a few minutes, but that man was the only thing that remained constant in Grantaire’s life, even if he didn’t know his name.

    Grantaire walked down the deserted street, looking for the other man. It was late at night, so no one else would be about. Eventually, Grantaire found him, crouching in the shadows.

    “R,” he said, addressing Grantaire by the only name he gave out. Giving out his full name would be dangerous, so he preferred using that singular letter. It had become so much a part of him that he had even taken to marking it on some of the scene’s of his crimes, making him quite the celebrity with the press. “This is your next guy,” the man said, handing Grantaire a manila folder with a single sheet of paper inside. “His name is Enjolras.”

    “Who wants him dead?”

    “The government.” At this, Grantaire looked up sharply. How did the government know anything about him? His operations were extremely covert, and as far as he knew, no one but the shadiest people knew how to request his services. “Yeah, R. They know all about you. You better watch your back,” the man said with a slight chuckle, before disappearing into the shadows.

-:-

    Grantaire researched this Enjolras and quickly tracked him down. He was a student at the University of Paris and he was the leader of a student activism group. Grantaire could only guess that this was the reason the government wanted him dead. He had a large friend group, men who referred to themselves as Les Amis De L’ABC. He shared an apartment with two of the men in the group, Courfeyrac and Combeferre. Enjolras had known those two his whole life. As for his classes, it seemed that one of his friends was in each class. This eliminated the possibility of Grantaire picking him off between classes. As for the rest of Enjolras’ time, that was wasted away at the Cafe Musain, a small building of towards the edge of the university’s campus. It wasn’t deemed to be the most popular cafe in the area, but it did have a steady stream of customers. Grantaire could try and nab Enjolras in the middle of the crowd, but, as the place was frequented by Enjolras’ friend group, it seemed highly unlikely that Grantaire could go about that unobserved.

    Grantaire sighed, for the time being it seemed that he would just have to wait and watch for a moment when Enjolras would be alone. The minute all of Enjolras’ friends were gone, Grantaire would sneak in and drop his target where he stood.

-:-

   Enjolras stood at one of the back tables of the Cafe Musain, poring over files and documents concerning the most recent social issue he’d tackled. A bill had been introduced concerning the treatment of LGBTQ students in Parisian high schools, and Enjolras intended to make sure that the bill was approved and put into place. His friends had been focused for the first twenty minutes of their meeting, but they had all quickly become distracted by a drinking game proposed by Courfeyrac. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He wished this bill had come a little sooner, so that he would have been able to hold rallies over it before he had to study for his final exams. He had barely slept an hour last night.

    Enjolras then returned his attention to the piles of paper that lay before him and concentrated for hours until he looked up and realized that the cafe was nearly empty. Combeferre stood motioning to him from the doorway, and a man he didn’t know with dark curls and strikingly bright blue eyes sat calmly in a corner, reading a book and drinking a coffee. Enjolras began to pack up his things, seeming to think it about odd that the man in the corner was drinking such a caffeinated beverage at such a later hour, but Enjolras wasn’t one to judge. Perhaps the man had just as long a night ahead of him as Enjolras did.

    Enjolras slipped the last of his possessions into his bag and followed Combeferre out of the Musain, not noticing the strange man’s eyes on his back the entire way out. He and ‘Ferre walked home along the pavement, discussing the upcoming protest. Enjolras and ‘Ferre both agreed that the group needed to do some serious publicizing of the event if they wanted any turnout at all. Jehan, a poet and the only one in the group with at least some artistic talent, had designed a poster for the rally and given it to Enjolras earlier today. ‘Ferre and Enjolras then dropped it off at the printers on their way home so that the posters would be ready to be hung up in two days time. They then agreed that Enjolras would come back tomorrow at the end of his classes. Alone.

     The two continued on their merry way, neither of them noticing the figure slinking behind them through the shadows. Grantaire smiled grimly as he heard their plan to pick up the posters, knowing that tomorrow afternoon he would get the chance to take Enjolras down. One shot to the back of the head from a nearby rooftop would be all it took to take the blonde down. Silently, Grantaire turned away and was surprised to find himself face to face with his acquaintance. Grantaire jumped, surprised that the man had been able to sneak up like that on him.

    “Revision on your assignment, R,” the man began, wasting no time. “The government needs Enjolras alive, not dead, and you’re to bring him to this address as soon as possible.” The man handed Grantaire a slip of paper, then, before Grantaire could protest, slipped off into the night.


	2. Chapter Two

    This change complicates things. The only reason that Grantaire was an assassin and not a spy was because he wasn't the best actor. If he had to take Enjolras in instead of just killing him, he’d have to come up with a scenario to get close to him, and he had to at least make it reasonable. This definitely wasn't in his job description.  

     He considered the possibility of just walking up to Enjolras, knocking him out, and dragging him into a van, but the fact that all of these events would be in broad daylight in a public area made him decide against that course of action. He also knew he couldn't rely on the Enjolras dropping something and Grantaire being able to help him pick it up, even if the blonde didn’t seem like the most graceful man in the world.

   Grantaire eventually decided that it would be easiest to pick Enjolras off inside of the printers. He hacked into the establishment’s database and saw that there were currently no other orders that would be ready at the same time as Enjolras.  Grantaire would just have to hope that no other patrons came in during his attack.

     Grinning, Grantaire began to work out the finer details of his plan. There was only one employee in the shop at a time, and removing the girl slated to work at that hour wouldn’t be a problem. Grantaire stalked some of her social media sites and found that she would be going out for coffee right before then. It wouldn’t be hard to slip a mild sedative into her drink and pose as a worker when Enjolras came in. A few quick blows would be enough to knock the activist unconscious. As soon as he did this, he would have to find a way to drag Enjolras’ unconscious body to the appointed address. Grantaire didn’t have a car and he supposed that no cabs would take him with what looked to be a dead body. However, it wouldn’t seem very suspicious at all to be leaving the building with a filled trash bag. As soon as Grantaire had rendered Enjolras unconscious, he would stuff him into a black bag and carry him out through the parking lot. The dumpster was at the treeline at the very back of the pavement, so it wouldn't look suspicious at all to carry the bagged Enjolras through the lot. Grantaire supposed he would have to obtain a car and have it parked next to the dumpster.

     Finally, Grantaire sat back and smiled. His plan was fairly good, especially given his history in undercover work and espionage. Now, all Grantaire would have to do is find and prep a car and wait.

-:-

     Grantaire waited impatiently behind the counter of the printers. After 'accidentally' bumping into the normal employee an hour earlier and slipping a small pill into her drink, he now didn’t have to worry about any interruptions. The printer’s security cameras had been set into a loop, and a red Mazda that had been hot wired and had it’s license plate swapped was currently parked right next to the dumpster. The high tingling of a bell aroused Grantaire from his musings and alerted him to Enjolras’ presence.

     “Hi. Enjolras?” The blonde stepped up to the counter.

     “Right, of course. I’ll be right back with your purchase.” Grantaire turned and slipped back into the storage room. Quickly, he grabbed Enjolras’ posters and a chloroform-soaked rag. He had decided last minute that the chemical would be a more intelligent way to go, seeing as now he wouldn't have to worry about causing Enjolras any brain damage.

    Moving back into the lobby, Grantaire laid the posters on the counter. As Enjolras extended his hand with his payment, Grantaire grabbed his wrist and flipped the smaller man over the counter and pinned him to the floor with one hand. Grantaire smothered Enjolras with rag and held his writhing form still until his bright blue eyes flickered shut. Grantaire quickly slipped Enjolras’ cell phone from his pocket and deposited in the trash can before pushing Enjolras into a black trashbag feet first. Once the man was fully inside, Grantaire tossed the entire parcel over his shoulder and slipped out the back door.

    Grantaire practically skipped through the parking lot, tossing Enjolras into the trunk and opening the bag up just enough for the man to be able to breath. Grantaire slipped into the driver’s seat and, glancing down at the address, drove off with his prize.

-:-

    Grantaire had no trouble finding the alleyway in which he was supposed to deposit Enjolras, for he knew the city of Paris better than the back of his own hand. He parked the Mazda a few blocks away, deciding to carry Enjolras the final bit of the distance then give the government a car to track him with.  As Grantaire entered the alleway, he noticed a figure standing at the other end. He wasn’t worried, the man could be the government official sent to collect Enjolras or just a random passing drunk. Either way, it didn’t affect Grantaire.

    He carried the bag part of the way into the alleyway before placing the man as gently as he could against the brick wall. Grantaire was just straightening up when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind him. Whipping around, he managed to catch the arm of his new attacker, an older man with a military haircut who had been swinging a police baton at Grantaire’s head.

    Twisting the other man’s wrist, Grantaire forced the man to drop his weapon, and, just as Grantaire was aiming a kick to the man’s crotch, he felt two pairs of strong arms snatch him from behind and pull him away from the first attacker. Grantaire managed to land a strong kick onto one of these new assailant’s kneecaps, snapping in in half, but the attack left him off-balance and the other man holding him managed to shove him to the ground.

    “You didn’t think we wouldn’t want you too, did you?” The man hissed before he slammed his own baton onto the side of Grantaire’s head, causing the world to spin and then darken into black.


End file.
